Bruises
by igirisexual
Summary: Part of the Sing Together series. Arthur catches the wrong plane and ends up in America. He runs into an old friend, and somehow ends up staying at his house for a whole week. Reminiscing and smiling together is a kind way to spend time; running into an old lover is not. Memories and new love surround him in a way he never knew possible. USUK.
1. Today, I Got Off The Wrong Bloody Plane

**This fanfiction is part of the **_**Sing Together**_** series. The **_**Sing Together**_** series is a group of USUK oneshots (this one won't be a oneshot fuck) based loosely around a collection of songs by **_**Train**_**. It's about time I did something like this. The AU and settings will differ between oneshots, and they won't be connected in any way. As such, I will be posting them separately.**

**Track 3: Bruises.**

* * *

American air was so dirty. The ground was, too. Cans or bottles of various things were scattered here and there, sullying what would have been a nice airport otherwise. Nothing had really changed, except the damned weather. Arthur Kirkland had been planning to go traveling for a while now, but it wasn't his intention to be here, in this damned country again. He was stuck now, though, as he was not due to go back home for a week. Somehow, he had managed to get on the wrong plane, and only once in the air did he realise as much. He had stayed in America for a mere year, with his fickle parents eager to travel about, and he forced to switch between schools often. That year was long passed, and he had graduated back in England.

Snow seemed to coat everything on the street, and Arthur shivered under his khaki peacoat. Damn America. Why did it have to be so cold right now? He had packed for a warm destination in Europe, and his coat was all he really had for cool weather. And it was freezing here. Huffing, he hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to somewhere warm. The man in the front just laughed.

"Nowhere is warm right now, guv'na." the driver scoffed. "Even inside, y' still need to wrap up warm and toasty."

"Alright, take me somewhere to get warm." Arthur tried, burying his hands in his pockets.

"Same answer, pal."

"Look, can you just bloody take me somewhere with heaters and hot tea?" He jeered, irritated. "I just got off a very long and tedious flight, and if I have to deal with another moment of cold, I will throw this cab all the way to the River Thames!"

"What a temper-" the driver said, but stopped mid-sentence.

"What now? Doubting my ability to toss this car?" Arthur sneered, rolling his eyes.

"No way.." the driver mumbled, and Arthur just creased his brow. "Excuse me if I'm wrong, but is your name Arthur?" He froze.

"What the hell.. How do you know that?" he spat, resting his hands in his lap now.

"Arthur Kirkland?" The driver seemed to become a little excited.

"What's it to you?" Arthur sneered, shoulders hunched. He couldn't see the driver due to the dark wall between front and back seats – excepting a rectangular peephole for sound to pass through - but if he could have..

"It's me! You don't recognize me?" the man in front asked quickly, turning around in his seat and looking through the hole in the separating wall.

Arthur recognized those bright blue eyes in an instant.

"Alfred?" he gawked, shuffling back in surprise. "What're you doing driving cabs?"

"It's good to see you too," Alfred laughed. "I'm driving taxis because it's my job. Oh man, we have so much catching up to do."

"I'm still freezing, asshat, so get driving." Arthur instructed, poking at Alfred's eyes through the peephole.

Alfred chuckled to himself and turned, putting the car into drive, and doing just that, driving. "Hey, what d'ya say we get something to eat or whatever in a café? I can drop you off and come back when my shift's over?"

"As long as it's warm inside." Arthur conceded.

He hadn't seen Alfred in years. It was in tenth grade that he had stayed in America, and met that brilliantly stupid boy. Don't get the wrong impression here, they were never together, although they were friends throughout the year. Arthur kept to himself mostly, whereas Alfred had many girlfriends, usually one after another – there was a line for dating such a popular boy.

About halfway through the second term, a French boy had asked Arthur out, and foolishly, he had accepted. Their relationship was lengthy, but as Arthur moved back to England, that took on a whole new meaning. Arthur found that just talking on the phone just wasn't enough to keep a relationship together, especially when Francis stopped calling. He assumed that Francis just didn't have time for him in his bustling life, but one evening Francis had admitted to being in love with another, and they broke up with teary words and a smashed phone. Arthur didn't know, however, that Alfred had been crushing on him since the day they first met.

They arrived at a café, and Arthur stepped out after giving Alfred the fare. "See you," he mused quietly, before turning from the grinning man and heading inside. The warmth and the smell of hot beverages came over him like a tidal wave. It was lovely. If there was one thing he would admit he loved about America, it would be the delightful little cafés strewn about. Arthur sat and ordered himself a tea for now. This place didn't serve tea, however, and he quickly grew disgusted. Reluctantly, he changed his order to a coffee.

Alfred's shift had already been near its end, apparently, as he pushed open the door to the café with a wide smile. He slotted himself down beside Arthur in mere seconds. Now that Arthur got a proper look at him, Alfred had grown up splendidly. A slick mop of blond hair shadowed his eyes; those were beautiful and blue as the sky. He had glasses now, which was actually kind of cute. He looked a little odd without braces, but Arthur let that go. Alfred had kept his athletic physique, also.

"Oh man, it's been so long!" He cooed, resting his elbows on the table of their booth. "How are you, Arthur? What're you in America for?"

"I'm warmer," he joked, sneering. "I'm in America because I caught the wrong bloody plane."

"Really? Maybe fate's brought us together again at last." Alfred winked. Arthur felt a little sick.

"You still do that, I see," Arthur muttered, upper lip twitching just a touch.

"What? What do I do?" Alfred asked quickly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Flirt with everyone you see. It's annoying."

"Huh? I do not!" he protested, cheeks becoming red quickly. "I wasn't flirting with you, I was just saying!"

"Uh-huh. I dare you to go and talk to that girl over there and not flirt with her once." Arthur mused, pointing to a girl with dark hair tied up in twin buns, who was nibbling on a cookie and looking out the café window.

"I can't refuse a dare," laughed Alfred, who confidently marched over and said hello.

Arthur just watched, although he was unable to hear exactly what they were saying. Alfred returned ten minutes later with this certain look of vexation and disbelief on his face.

"How'd it go? You have a new girlfriend?" Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms.

"She gave me her phone number," Alfred whined, holding up a little piece of paper to show.

"Just as I thought." He puffed, looking into the coffee that he hadn't even touched.

"Okay, so here's where you ask how I've been." Alfred prompted.

"Thing is, I'm not that concerned." Arthur shrugged, creasing his brow.

"Oh, alright," Alfred puffed, not going to give in and say that his disdain hurt. "Well, where're you staying?"

"A hotel in southern Greece, apparently."

"Funny, how're you going to get there?" he asked, confused.

"I got off the wrong plane, idiot." Arthur scowled.

"Oh, so you have nowhere to go? You can come and stay with me while you're here, right? That'd be awesome!" Alfred beamed, practically jumping in his seat.

"How do I know that you're not some kind of psycho now?" scoffed the Briton, shaking his head. "Alfred F. Jones, serial killer and renowned psychopath."

"Don't be mean! You can stay with me, it's totally cool! I wanna show you my flat anyway."

After maybe a solid ten minutes of arguing, Arthur finally conceded to stay with Alfred for the week, but only if he paid for Arthur's food and whatever else he wanted. Alfred was quick to agree to that. And so, they traveled to Alfred's apartment, with Arthur adding more to his grudge with every step.

Alfred jumped about his messy apartment, desperate to make it just a little bit cleaner for the guest he hadn't been expecting. Arthur just watched, amused as Alfred scrambled about to slam this underwear drawer shut.

"You live alone?" he asked, hands in his pockets as he leant against the wall.

"Yeah, sadly," Alfred called from the next room. "My last girlfriend dumped me like two weeks ago, and she'd even moved in and stuff."

"Oh, the suffering." Arthur scoffed. "Luckily for me, I'll never know the pain of losing a girlfriend."

"What, because you're as gay as a.. uh, a gay thing?" Alfred smirked, trying to act cocky although his attempt at an analogy had gone down the drain.

"Yes, you got me. The gay thing. That's me."

"You still with Francis?" Alfred wandered over to the couch, now done with his mini cleaning frenzy, and motioned for Arthur to join him.

"Gods no." Arthur sat down, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "We tried a long-distance relationship after I moved back to England. He fucking cheated on me."

"I'm not even surprised, though," Alfred fiddled with his hands. "Francis did kind of have a reputation for that thing."

"I know, but I was young, dumb, and in love." Arthur sounded like he was reminiscing, but his little daze ended in seconds as a scowl graced his lips. "What ever happened with your billions of girlfriends in high school?"

"Eh, none of them were _the one_, I guess." Alfred shrugged. "I mean, I've been with so many girls and I don't think any of them have been the right guy for me."

"The right guy?" Arthur raised a brow. Interesting.

"What? Did I say that? Ahah, I meant girl. Or like, you know how 'guys' is a gender-neutral thing? Like that." He was quick to cover his tracks. "I haven't found the right girl yet. There."

"Alfred, you can come out of the closet whenever you're ready," joked Arthur, patting his old friend's shoulder.

"No homo," scoffed Alfred. "Anyway, I should set up a bed for you or something. Oh man, it's so great to see you again!" He cheered, bouncing up to his feet. "Y'know what, I have a bunk bed, so you can have top bunk!"

"Bunk bed? What are you, ten?" Arthur scolded, standing up as well and tugging the ends of his sleeves over his fingers. He felt kind of cute doing that. Huh.

"Bunk beds are the coolest things ever, you party pooper."

Apparently that was true in Alfred's eyes. And damn, was his room a mess. Clothes were strewn about – despite his previous cleaning efforts – and there was a stack of what Arthur would've sworn were old pizza boxes. They were covered by some kind of fabric, though, so he couldn't tell. Weird. Alfred's bed itself was a little cave. The top bunk was used to hang down a thin blanket from, one to shield the bottom bunk and make it a cute little cubby.

"You're like four, I swear to god," Arthur actually laughed as Alfred moved the hanging blanket and ducked into his little cave.

"You're laughing! Oh man, I missed you," he cooed, sticking his head out to flash a smile. "No homo, but like, I missed you heaps, pal."

"That's at least a little bit homo."

"No way. Now get in the goddamn cubby house."

Reluctantly, Arthur shuffled forward, moved the blanket, and crawled in. "Why do you have such a thing, anyway? You can't sleep on a normal bed, like a normal person?"

"That's no fun at all." Alfred turned on a little lamp, and the two were illuminated in the small space. "Ooh, I should show you my batman costume."

"_Batman costume_?" he tried not to laugh. "You're exactly the same as you were in high school, I can't believe this. At least _I_ grew up."

"I do adult things, so I'm an adult!" puffed Alfred, crawling over to the edge of the bed and rummaging around on the floor. "I have a job and stuff, and one time I tried drinking but it was gross and hangovers are like having a giant lion bite your head off so I never did it again." After a few more moments, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and he lifted up a little bag. "Here it is!" He reached inside, and pulled out the costume, grinning as he held it up beside him.

"Oh my god, I'm sharing a cubby-bunk-bed-house with the Dark Knight," Arthur said mockingly, putting a hand to his cheek.

"_I'm Batman_." Alfred said huskily, lowering his voice to imitate said hero.

"No, I won't be your heroine in this film," Arthur joked, crossing his arms and sneering. "God, I never thought I'd see you again, let alone mock your taste in cinema."

"So sweet of you," Alfred chuckled. "Right, setting up that bed for you." He reminded himself. He stowed away his Batman costume again, before slipping out from the cubby. He went about gathering spare blankets and the like, and climbing up to the top bunk to toss them onto the bed. He finished with that, and climbed back down. As he parted the hanging blanket again, he felt his heart stop.

Arthur had taken off his coat, - it was quite warm in Alfred's flat - and was now sitting there with just a tank top and trousers. Oh sweet mother of god. During their year together, Arthur was always covered up with long-sleeved shirts and tenaciously refused to show any skin. There he was, arms, shoulders, neck, collarbones.. Alfred was rendered speechless.

"What?" the Briton muttered, staring up at Alfred as the American stared down at him. Alfred seemed to snap out of his stupor, and shook his head quickly.

"Just surprised, I guess, you were always one for turtlenecks back in high school. I've never seen your arms before." Alfred shrugged.

"Mm, well," Arthur sighed quietly, glancing down to his thin and pale limbs. "I had my reasons."

"Did you? I mean, like, what?" Alfred persisted, oblivious to the mood in the room.

"I already had my luggage taken to fucking Greece." Realised Arthur, changing the subject. "Fuck." Biting his lip, he picked up his coat from beside him, and put it back over his shoulders, covering them self-consciously. "Damnit all to hell."

"If you need clothes, I can lend you some?" Alfred suggested, ducking under the blanket and rejoining Arthur within the cubby. The thought of Arthur in _his_ clothes, oh goodness.

"You'd be willing to do that?" Arthur sighed, burying himself into his coat. "God, I feel kind of bad for imposing so much on you. Then again, I remember who you are, and I forget about feeling bad."

"Wow," Alfred mused, raising a brow. "You're repaying me with your company, so it's fine. I get lonely sometimes, and I-"

"No, no, and no. I'm not doing anything of the sort with you. And for Christ's sakes, I don't want to know."

"I was going to say, I get all lame and clingy and I call my bro and whine to him relentlessly." Alfred chided, leaning forward and giving Arthur a playful nudge.

"Oh, right, you have a brother-" Arthur uttered quietly, having forgotten until now. "What was his name? I can't for the life of me remember-.. I just kind of remember he was a little cute." Alfred inwardly shook his fist. Why was brother dear blessed with a face that Arthur considered cute, and not he?

"Matthew. Funny enough, he's with Francis now." Alfred commented.

Arthur made a face like he was about to be sick. "Right, he's not cute anymore."

"Hey, I reckon we should do some cool stuff every day, since you're stuck in America. There's a fete-slash-festival being held by our old school at the moment, actually!" He piped up, grinning. "It started yesterday, and goes till tomorrow midnight. Since you're probably tired as hell from your flight, we should go tomorrow!"

Day one drew to a close with the two gossiping about people they both once knew, and making jokes about how either of them had grown up. Night fell, and for pajamas, Alfred offered a superman shirt and some shorts to Arthur, who hesitantly put them on and climbed up to the top bunk. He fell asleep almost instantly. Alfred had to refrain from taking a photo – that would be kinda creepy, regardless of how beautiful Arthur looked in his sleep – as he glanced over his friend. (No homo.)

"Night, guv'na."

* * *

**idk when chapter 2 will be up shrug**


	2. Supernatural, Soda, and Fireworks

**heres chapter two enjoy**

* * *

Day two. It began with Alfred waking up at six, getting out of bed, almost forgetting about Arthur, and climbing up to top bunk to try and wake him up. One.. Two..

"WAKE UP, ARTHUR!" He shouted, causing the Briton to jolt upright, slam his forehead into Alfred's, and let out a weak wail.

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" Arthur exclaimed back, slamming a quick fist into Alfred's face. He recoiled backward, fell off the bunk, and started complaining as soon as he hit the ground. "Shut up! God fucking damn it," he yelled, shocked and indignant at such a rude awakening. "I swear on the Queen that I'll skin you alive if you _ever_ try that again, Alfred Foster Jones!"

"Whoa there," Alfred laughed from the floor, despite the pain in his back and face. Arthur was cuter when he was sleeping, he decided. He wasn't as yell-y then. No homo. "No need for that kinda violence."

"What fucking time is it?" Arthur coughed, wiping his eyes and letting out a pained groan.

"It's like six-"

"SIX? You woke me up at SIX. In the morning. SIX IN THE MORNING." Arthur ranted loudly, crawling forward and ambling down the ladder to the floor. "Alfred, I'm going to kill you."

"You said I was the serial killer," joked Alfred, who feared that Arthur might not be joking, and shuffled backwards with haste. "How the tables have turned."

"For god's sake, you asshole," Arthur wheezed, trying to kick the man in the side, but missing and falling over. "I'm too bloody tired for this." He muttered from the floor.

"I give you shelter, love, and company, and this is what I get in return." Alfred mused, rolling over a bit and looking to Arthur's closed eyes. "But I mean, like, platonic love, like friendship, no homo."

"You're gay, get over it," Arthur muttered, yawning and slowly getting up. "What kind of tea do you have?.. I need a cup or else I'm not going to survive the day. How do you have yours?"

"Tea? What do you think I am, British?" Alfred sneered, already an asshole at six in the morning. "I like my tea with the water of the Boston harbor."

"Oh, fuck you, you know what I meant. You're messed up for not drinking it." Arthur chided. He resembled a zombie as he trudged out of the room, and got lost trying to find the kitchen. It was much too early for him, even more so because his body clock was out of whack now that he was in a different part of the world. Alfred decided to let Arthur do whatever until he wasn't as much of a grump as he was in his morning mode.

Hearing something that sounded like an explosion, Alfred sat up, and wandered out to find out what had happened. At the stove stood Arthur, ash staining his face, hair sticking up, and a bewildered expression on his features.

"What the fuck-"

"Your oven doesn't work properly. Neither does your toaster."

"Why did I hear something explode?.." Alfred mumbled cautiously, coming closer. Now that he neared, he saw a blackened tray within the opened oven. "Oh no, you didn't try to-.. Oh, my god. I've made my mistakes, but this.."

"I tried making toast, but that didn't work, so I decided to make some scones. Your oven doesn't work." At least having something that was supposed to be scones exploding in his face seemed to wake Arthur up.

"Leave me to make breakfast," Alfred said quickly, sweating bullets. "You're a guest after all."

"Hm, well." Arthur puffed. "I'm going to go and wash my face or something." He stuck his nose up, and ambled out of the room.

Alfred wasn't sure if he should have offered to host this charming man in the first place. Hanging his head, he cleaned up the explosion mess from the kitchen, and put in fresh slices of bread to the toaster. Arthur was banned from this kitchen for the rest of his life.

After eating a breakfast that Arthur wouldn't stop complaining about, the two of them lazed about until late afternoon, as Alfred had called a sickie for the day.

"Right, we should get ready for the fete!" Alfred said suddenly, hitting his open palm with his fist. He and Arthur had been laying on the couch at the time of his declaration, the latter on the verge of sleeping again as an old episode of _Sesame Street_ played on Alfred's TV.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that," groaned Arthur. "God, I feel like I'm hungover."

Alfred got up, stretched, and ruffled Arthur's hair before wandering off to find some clothes for the both of them. Arthur once again swore bloody murder on Alfred's name.

"I hope you don't mind my style," Alfred called as he rummaged about his drawers. Arthur was too grouchy now to reply.

Alfred returned a few minutes later with an armful of clothes. "Find yourself something you wanna wear," he said with a smile. "You can change in the bathroom. It's gonna be cold, duh, so pick something warm." He beamed. With that said, he returned to his bedroom to change.

Arthur sifted through the pile, wondering how Alfred even wore this stuff. Most of it seemed baggy and too big for even Alfred, and if it wasn't oversized and loose, it seemed tight and uncomfortable. Only one shirt really appealed to him, so he nicked that with a pair of jeans, and headed off to change.

As he left the bathroom, he was met with a smug faced Alfred. "You a fan, then?" He asked, glancing to the shirt Arthur had picked. It was dark red, and had '_Keep calm and I'm an angel of the lord'_ displayed in white block letters, along with a little emblem of some wings. Alfred, on the other hand, was wearing a flannel shirt with cartoon hamburgers emblazoned here and there, and magenta skinny jeans. He also had a bow tie, magenta to match his jeans. Arthur would never ever admit that he was cute.

"Maybe." Arthur smirked, annoyed by how the jeans he'd picked were too long for his short legs. He would live though. Alfred was kind enough to lend his clothes, so it would be really rude to complain.

"Well, in that case.." Alfred disappeared back into his room. A few moments later, he returned and tossed something khaki Arthur's way. He caught it, and looked it over.

"You're a nerd." Arthur stated, putting on the trenchcoat and admiring himself in it. Perhaps he was actually just blond Castiel. That would be really cool.

"Says you, Cas." He sneered back, making his voice deeper to imitate the beautiful Jensen Ackles.

"We should get going, there's so much to do." Alfred cheered, pumping his fist in the air. "Damnit, if I knew you were going to be wearing the Cas shirt, I would've put on my Dean getup.. But enough dwelling on the best ship of all time. Let's go!"

"The _best ship of all time_ is only contested by Johnlock." whispered Arthur as they headed out of the flat together.

Arthur was glad he'd picked out a pair of lace-up boots, because he had to trudge through a foot of snow on the way to their old school. He was almost dead by the end of the walk, having to lean on Alfred. He really wasn't the most athletic guy. By that, I mean he stayed inside and did his work from his laptop while rewatching Sherlock or Doctor Who or even Harry Potter for the third/fourth/twentieth time. He only went outside to tend to his garden, or when he had to let his cat out/in.

They finally reached the school after what seemed like years of walking, and Alfred pat his weary friend's back. "C'mon, let's get hot cocoa to warm us up." He smiled, grabbed Arthur's arm, and pulled him through the sparse crowd. Arthur skidded as he was tugged along, but couldn't release himself from Alfred's iron grip. Great.

They arrived at a little stand, with a sheltered area for their customers to drink in. The seats were pillows, and the tables were crates. Quaint. Alfred queued for a bit while Arthur sat in the covered area, fiddling and watching the people pass by to see if he knew any of them. He didn't. Alfred returned soon, toting a pair of hot chocolates, and offering one to Arthur.

"Thank you." He said quietly, using the hot paper cup as a way to warm his hands. "What happened to Sakura? Did she stay in America?" Conversation was crucial in keeping an awkward air out of the equation.

"She moved back to Japan, and broke my heart doing so." Alfred joked, wandering off and returning moments later with a straw. He then poked a hole in the lid of his cocoa, and put it in. "We still talk sometimes on Skype, though. Speaking of which, you have one?"

"Yes, believe it or not." He scoffed. "I got it for Francis," he paused and shuddered, "But I think he got sick of seeing my face so we only used it once."

"Tell me your username when we're back at the flat, and I'll send you a contact request." Alfred now sat there, drinking hot cocoa through a straw.

"You're strange," sighed Arthur, taking a vague sip of his own cocoa.

"I think I'm pretty normal." Alfred was completely oblivious to some of the looks he was getting as he slurped.

They finished their cocoa, a fact Arthur was grateful for, and stood up. "Right, where to?" asked Arthur, hiding his hands in the too-long sleeves of the trenchcoat.

"Cotton candy!" he chirped. "A fete's not a fete without cotton candy."

"I don't even like fairy floss," chided Arthur, although he didn't resist when Alfred grabbed his hand and began pulling him through the crowds again.

Alfred speedily bought them both a cotton candy wand, and handed the blue one over to Arthur. The pink one was his. No-one got between him and pink cotton candy. No-one. Well, except Arthur when he grabbed it out of Alfred's hand, and swapped it with the blue.

"Hey!" puffed Alfred, staring at the blue cotton candy wand like it was something out of a horror movie. "Pink one's mine!" He huffed. "Also, didn't you say that you don't like cotton candy? Asshole!"

"I don't like blue." Arthur looked up, took a bite of fairy floss, and smirked.

"They taste the same!" Alfred argued.

"Then why do you want pink so badly?" Arthur smirked, starting to lead Alfred off in another direction.

"You're a dick!"

"How sweet of you, Alfred."

God fucking damn it.

They wandered about the fete, with Alfred trying to steal bites of pink cotton candy any time he could. Arthur was cautious, though, and managed to move it away every time. He'd almost forgotten how fun Alfred was to tease. He almost finished his wand, and handed it over when there was just one bite's worth left.

"Here you go, I don't like pink after all." He smirked, causing Alfred to steam over. At least, that's what his expression said.

"I can't believe this, you steal my pink cotton candy, eat it all, and _then_ decide you don't like it?" He cried, bunching up his shoulders in frustration. He had already finished the blue wand.

"I didn't eat all of it. There's a little left, see." Arthur pointed to the fluffy sugar still clinging to the wand for dear life. "Here you go." Alfred just groaned.

Next on Alfred's mental list was the little teacup ride that had been hired by the school, and set up down on the oval.

"I'll forgive you for the cotton candy if you go on this with me." Alfred pointed to the spinning teacups. "You should like this, it's tea. Like you."

"I'm tea?" Arthur was genuinely amused.

"No, I meant like, uh," Alfred puffed, creasing his brow to try and help his train of thought. "I meant like, you're British, so tea, like you, but uh, British.. And you're the tea-.. Wait, that's not right, uh,"

"I get it, idiot." Arthur chuckled, taking Alfred by the earlobe and dragging him to the queue.

Arthur didn't seem to mind that the ride was mostly occupied by little children or old ladies. He'd never actually been on a ride of any kind before, so this was a leap of faith for Alfred's sake. They clambered into their shared teacup, with Arthur sitting beside Alfred as they waited for it to start.

Motion sickness was something Arthur had forgotten about. Whoops. As the teacups span, Arthur began to feel very ill, and covered his mouth with one hand as he gagged.

"Arthur-" Alfred mumbled, turning to look at his companion. "Oh, shit!" He cried, picking up the bewildered Brit and leaping off the spinning ride. He quickly put the man back down, and he ran off to some bushes to empty the contents of his stomach.

He returned a moment later, wiping his mouth and slumped over in his stead.

"Dude, you get sick on the spinning tea cup ride? It's lame, but it's supposed to be all romantic and cute and whatever."

"I couldn't have you being mad at me over cotton candy," he wheezed. "What happened to no homo? Romantic ride? I can't believe you just bloody picked me up and jumped off it, for god's sake.. That's very homo."

"No homo is implied. All the time. It's always no homo. Never homo." Alfred stated as if it was obvious. "Come on, I think you need some soda after that."

"Why do you damned Americans call it that?" Arthur grumbled as they began to walk again. "It's fizzy, or soft drink. A can of fizzy. Or you just call it what it is. A can of Sprite. A can of Coke."

"Soda!" Alfred protested lamely, a hurt expression on his face. "It's soda!"

"You sound like a kicked puppy." Arthur mumbled.

"Yeah, 'cos it's soda, and you're wrong!"

Even as Arthur kicked at Alfred's shins and went on about how wrong he was, they managed to get to a stand that was selling drinks. Finally. One arm still around Alfred's neck in mock choking, Arthur glimpsed up to the cashier, and his heart stopped. He dropped his arm instantly.

"It's you." He was immediately uncomfortable. Alfred seemed just as such. "You asshole!"

"Arthur, please," Alfred whined, tugging his friend back. "Don't get all angry, we're at a fete.."

"That's not a very nice way to greet me, _mon ami_." Francis said quaintly, raising a brow. "Would you like a can of soda?"

"You cheating, lying, dick!" Arthur exclaimed, trying to march forward, but being held back by Alfred. "How dare you speak to me like that, after what you've done!"

"I'm sorry," Alfred said quickly, having to lift the kicking Arthur into his arms to stop him from full-on leaping at the Frenchman. "He got off the wrong plane."

"And ended up here? How quaint. He's still charming as ever." Francis laughed quietly.

"You're not the one offering him lodging for a week." Alfred shrugged. It was kind of amusing that they were both totally ignoring the squirming and shouting man in Alfred's arms right now. "Anyway, two Sprites'll be great."

"I don't think he's over me," Francis mused, grabbing a pair of cans from the little esky below the desk. "Even after all these years."

"I'm totally fucking over you!" Arthur protested, still trying to swing a leg forward to kick Francis in the balls. "Why would I still be attached to a cheating asshole like you?!"

"I've grown up, _mon ami_. I was just a child, then. I didn't know what I was doing. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. _C'est la vie._"

Arthur just grunted and kind of stopped in his struggling. "Put me down, you belligerent idiot," he spat, staring daggers at Alfred.

"Why's he calling me a bell? I don't ring or anything." he asked to Francis, frowning and putting Arthur down.

"Nevermind it, Alfred," Francis shrugged.

"Hmph, I shouldn't have yelled." It wasn't an apology, but Francis took it with grace, as Arthur was the kind of person who wouldn't apologize even if he had killed someone with his car.

"You're still a little immature, aren't you?" Francis laughed, handing over the cans and putting Alfred's coins into the register in return. "_A__bientôt__._"

"He's really not that bad, y'know." Alfred said as they walked away from the stand. "He's volunteering at the stall because he loves the school, and he loves working with kids." He shrugged. He had ended up carrying both of the drinks, as Arthur was too angry, had his hands in the trenchcoat's pockets, and didn't even like Sprite.

"Maybe he's not as much of an asshole anymore." Arthur mumbled, as much as he hated to admit it. Francis sounded like he'd actually turned into a pretty nice guy. High school did bring out the worst in people, he guessed.

"Hey, uh.." Arthur mumbled, pausing his steps.

"What is it?" Alfred asked with curious eyes. "Something up?"

"Can we, ah, I didn't end up getting a drink I liked, so can we find somewhere to get one?.. I'm a little thirsty, so.."

"Of course! You know, you're a sucker for not liking Sprite." Alfred chuckled, throwing an arm casually around Arthur's shoulders, and walking him to the closest place that sold soft drink. Arthur purchased a can of creaming soda, to which Alfred laughed because it was creaming _soda_, and he'd won.

"Isn't it getting a little late? What even is the time?" asked Arthur with a yawn. He sipped at his cheery pink can as the two wandered about the fete.

"Oh yeah! It is!" Alfred said with shock. "C'mon, we gotta get a good spot!"

"A good spot for what-" Arthur tried to ask, but Alfred had taken his hand before he could finish, and he was dragged off before he could protest.

Alfred led him up the hill to the side of the school's oval, where a few people were already gathering, with blankets or fold-up chairs. Arthur's curiosity only blossomed. "C'mon, sit down, the grass is comfy." Alfred said with a smile, plopping himself down and patting the ground beside him.

"Why're we here, exactly?" he mumbled, thankful to not have lost too much of his creaming soda during that traveling.

"What's the time?" Alfred interrupted, although he answered his own question by pulling out his phone. "Five minutes!"

"Five minutes isn't a time, you dolt." Arthur mumbled, finding that it was quite chilly right now, on a damned snowy hill.

"Yeah it is, it's like a period of time." He retorted smartly, pouting. "Like twenty minutes. Or an hour. Or three light years."

"Light years are distance."

"Why're they called years, then?"

"Something to do with how fast light travels. I don't know. Didn't you learn it at school?"

"I don't know," Alfred whined, opening his second can of sprite with a little fizzing noise. "Stop being so smart and stuff, or my head's going to explode."

"I'm not _that_ smart." Arthur mumbled, although his cheeks were a little pink.

"Yeah you are. Now, it should happen anytime, now."

"What? You still haven't told me what's going on, Alfred." Arthur said indignantly, poking the American's chest with one finger. "What on earth is going to happe-" He jumped at a large crack in the sky, screamed like a little girl, and hid his face in Alfred's chest, all in one dorky movement.

"Fireworks!" Cheered Alfred, hugging Arthur now that he had the opportunity. Realising the position he was in, Arthur scrabbled out of Alfred's arms and pushed the man away with a quick shove.

"Let go of me!" He uttered quickly, shuffling away and looking up at the fireworks display.

"You're the one who dove onto me," Alfred shrugged, shuffling back towards Arthur. "Gayyyy-"

"Why're you talking about yourself?" sneered Arthur, not even turning to face his companion.

"I'm straight!" squeaked Alfred. Arthur just punched his face gently.

"Shut up and watch the fireworks."

Together, they watched the colours dance about the sky, leaving their trails of red or blue against an otherwise black evening. Arthur was kind of awed by them, but Alfred was on a whole other level of admiration. He gave each one a name before it burst and cracked, and kept trying to predict what kind of firework would be sent up next. The last one was the best. It went up slowly, with small cracks going off to either side of its trail. And once it had reached its apex, it burst. The colours were magnificent, bright yellows and reds dancing about from the thundering cracker. In his awe, Alfred hadn't noticed that his arm had gone back around Arthur's shoulders, and noticed even less that Arthur was leaning against him.

When he did realise, though, he pinched his lips together and didn't dare say anything stupid.

"I love fireworks; they're beautiful." Arthur commented quietly, swiftly breaking the silence that had crept around them.

"Sure are," Alfred dipped his head. Arthur let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, shifting a bit and resting his head on Alfred's chest, which was more comfortable than his pokey shoulder. "Y'know, maybe fete's brought us together again after all."

"Was that a.." Arthur muttered, not bothering to finish his question with the word 'pun'.

"Sorry, sorry, it's a habit." Alfred chuckled quietly. There was no answer for the next few minutes, and it took as long for Alfred to realise that Arthur had fallen asleep against him. God damn it. That was fucking adorable. No homo.

It was midnight now, and the fete would be closing any minute. Seeing no other alternative – he didn't want to wake the sleeping Briton in fear of his morning mode – he scooped Arthur up into his arms and gently carried him all the way home.

Arthur had woken up at some point, but didn't protest and kick his way out of Alfred's arms like expected.

"Oh, you're awake?" Alfred asked quietly, feeling a little tug on his shirt. Arthur's fingers had touched at it vaguely.

"Yeah." Arthur opened his eyes. "You shouldn't have carried me, idiot."

"I'd be dead if I'd woken you up, remember," Alfred put Arthur down on the couch, before wandering back over to the door to shut it. "I value my life."

"Good." Arthur mumbled, wiping his eyes and sitting up. "Ugh, I feel sick from all the sugar."

"Maybe you shouldn't have stolen my cotton candy." Alfred retorted, waddling about and opening a chest on the side of the room. "Also, lay back down. I'm getting blankets and stuff."

"You're better with blue, you know." He stated, doing as instructed.

Alfred returned to the couch, arms full of puffy blankets and pillows. He tossed them at Arthur, who tried to catch them and failed. With that done, Alfred bomb-dived onto the couch, buried himself in blanket, and felt about for the TV remote.

"You're a little kid under those big muscles, aren't you?" mumbled Arthur, raising a brow. He was still trying to make himself comfortable under the blankets, although it was hard when Alfred's legs were irritatingly close to his body.

"You think my muscles are big?" Alfred said with a little smile. "What, you like?"

"I'm not into muscles." Arthur shrugged.

"Geek type? I can do geek type too." Alfred found the remote and turned the TV on. He switched it to the news, and turned the sound down real low.

"Why would you need to appeal to my tastes?" Arthur asked, suspicious.

"What? That's totally not what I meant. No homo!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to watch the news. Alfred fell asleep before too long, brain switched off by the boring news. The Briton sighed quietly, and tried to make himself comfortable. He was quite weary still, and was glad that the day had ended so nicely.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

* * *

**in the next chapter we get to see francis again : ) ahah**


	3. We Meet Again and I Dare Him to Lie

The third day started with Arthur waking at the sound of a short wail. He realised why that had happened though. Twitching his toes, he felt that he had struck something. Oh right. Alfred's face.

"Ow, that really hurts!" whined Alfred, shoving Arthur's foot out of his face and rubbing the sore spot. "You fucking kicked me in your sleep!" He exclaimed, gripping onto Arthur's leg with both hands and using it as an anchor to flip the Briton off of the couch. "Take that!"

Arthur, bewildered, flopped about on the floor like a fish out of water. "What the hell- Alfred, you assface!" He yelled, shocked at just how suddenly cold he was without the blanket. "If this is how you're going to wake me every morning, I won't be staying here anymore!"

"You woke me up first by kicking me!" Alfred exclaimed, incredulous. Arthur, having no witty comeback, zipped his lips and stared away.

They stayed quiet for a while, before Alfred got up and gave a meek apology for throwing Arthur on the floor. He explained that he couldn't pull a sickie today, but suggested that Arthur should go shopping for anything he might need for the week. They made an agreement, that Alfred would drop him off and then go about work, take him back to the flat as one of his fares, and then Arthur was to do whatever he pleased until he got home.

They ate a lame breakfast, biscuits and coffee – Arthur's was just milk and sugar, as he refused to drink coffee – and got dressed. Arthur was forced to sift through Alfred's clothes pile again, this time picking out a puffy black hoodie with a strange white logo and wearing his own slacks with it. Alfred bore a puffy bomber jacket that looked a little big on even him. Arthur reminded himself to make fun of it later.

"You a fan of that, too?" Alfred asked, mouth full of biscuit as he pointed to the jumper.

"No, it just looked warm. I don't even know what that is." Arthur shrugged.

"I'm a Knight of Space, apparently, so I bought that to show." He chuckled, slurping his coffee up through a straw. "I'm stuck at home."

"Didn't you leave it yesterday?" the Briton asked, puzzled.

"Not the point."

After breakfast and changing clothes, Alfred set off in his work car with Arthur. He dropped the man off at the shops, and Arthur just stretched. He wasn't even sure what he needed right now. Tea was one. He could probably keep borrowing Alfred's clothes, as annoying as that was. Alfred didn't seem to mind, though, and Arthur did not fancy spending his money on new clothes juts because his old ones were in Greece. He would have to get those returned home when he could.

He wandered about the shops for a while, picking out a box of Earl Grey tea leaves and tossing it into the basket. He also bought a fish, some potatoes, vinegar, a sweet animated film, a carton of cigarettes, undergarments, and a newspaper. There. Done. He took said items to the checkout, paid, and carried away the bag the cashier put them in.

He returned to the street, sitting down on a bench and waiting for Alfred to show up. When he did, Arthur hopped into the car and let out a little sigh.

"I kind of expected the bag to be fuller," mused Alfred, starting to drive again.

"I just got what I needed." Arthur said quietly, looking over the contents.

"What's that, wrapped up there?" The American pointed to the deli parcel within the plastic bag.

"Fish." Arthur answered simply.

"You bought fish fillets? Why?"

"Not fillets, a fish. I bought a fish."

Alfred was in disbelief. "Why did you buy a fish?"

"I'm making you dinner tonight."

Alfred felt his blood run cold. "Oh, no, that's not necessary.." he laughed nervously. "You're a guest, after all-"

"No, it's perfectly necessary. You're allowing me to stay in your home and borrow your clothes, so I think it's fair enough that I make you a nice meal." Arthur protested. Well, this was it. Alfred was going to die. He'd signed his own damned death warrant when he let Arthur shop unsupervised.

"Ah.. Alright.." he laughed nervously. Maybe it would be a less painful death for him if he wrapped the taxi around a tree.

He dropped Arthur back off at the flat with a smile, and went off to his next fare. Smiling to himself, Arthur went inside and put the fish in the fridge for now. He still had a few hours before Alfred was due back, so he decided to explore town. Arthur headed out of the apartment again, and trudged down to the park.

It wasn't what he had expected or wanted, but seeing Francis there wasn't necessarily a bad opportunity. Maybe he could be a big mature adult and patch things up properly. He wasn't a bratty teenager anymore. He could do this. And so, he swallowed his pride and approached.

Just as he opened his mouth, Francis interrupted. "Oh, 'ello again, _mon ami_." He put away his phone, and smiled.

"Just shut it, I should talk to you about something." Arthur mumbled quickly. "I'm.. Hn.. I, uh.. apol-… I'm sorry that I was such a horror yesterday." He said under his breath.

"Apology accepted." Francis's smile was almost as bright as Alfred's. "Come, sit with me." He patted part of the bench beside him, and Arthur nervously took the seat.

"You're still short." Francis commented, resting his arms behind the back of the bench.

"I'm as tall as you and you know it." Arthur sneered. "You haven't grown, nor have I. So we're the exact same height."

"Even if so, those gargantuan brows distract me from seeing the top of your head." He teased. Their playful banter continued on, and ended later with the two almost crying from laughter.

"My stomach hurts," laughed Arthur, leaning on his friend-.. Was Francis his friend again? Yes, he decided. "Stop making me laugh!"

"Pbbbt!" Francis stuck out his tongue and made a silly face, only causing Arthur's mirth to increase.

"You're from Eggland, so you're an egg." He smirked, giving Arthur a friendly shove.

"It's England! Not Eggland!" Arthur said, acting shocked that Francis dared to say such a thing. He shoved the man back.

"You must be a rotten egg, because you smell." Francis chuckled, returning the push.

They kept passing insults and pushes, each of the latter becoming stronger over time. After only so long, Francis's shove was strong enough to make Arthur go falling down to the ground. Except he had a hand on Francis's collar as he fell, dragging the Frenchman down with him. Luckily, the park was almost abandoned by now, so no-one would be seeing just how embarrassing and friendly the two were.

Arthur's laughter faded as he ran out of voice, but a very faint smile still hung on his lips. The way they had landed, it was something very familiar to him. Francis pinning him down, Arthur smiling coyly with a hand around the other man's back.. Something very similar to how it'd been back in high school. Francis's smile disappeared, yet he still hovered above the Briton.

"Kiss me, you asshole," mumbled Arthur, moving one hand to take hold of Francis's collar properly. "I miss you."

"You know I can't." Francis uttered, refusing to look Arthur in the eye, even as he was pulled closer, pulled down against Arthur's body. "I'm with Matthew now. Alfred's brother."

"I know you are, but.. He won't know!" Arthur protested. "I'll be out of America before you know it. I never came here, for all bloody Matthew knows!"

"You sound exactly like he did when we kissed for the first time. Except it was you who wasn't to know." Francis murmured. "I'm not doing this again. I thought you said you were over me."

"Please," begged Arthur, staring at the lips he'd been missing for a long time. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. You're hard to contain feelings for, Bonnefoy!"

"Arthur, I can't-"

Arthur had tugged Francis's face down before he could go on, and had brashly pressed their lips together, more out of instinct than out of thought. Francis pulled back a split second after, and slapped Arthur across the face.

"Stop it!" Francis growled, danger in his tone. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Arthur? Do not act like a child!" He grunted, getting up in moments. "I give you something, anything, but you can't accept it, and you always want more! Stop pushing your luck!" Arthur stared up at him, not strong enough to move, not even to cower or snivel. He looked rather pathetic.

Francis turned, gave Arthur one last look, before leaving. Slowly, Arthur sat up, and rubbed gently at the red mark on his cheek. He had well earned that. And he very much doubted Francis was his friend after all. Defeated and feeling shit about himself, he trudged back to Alfred's apartment.

He waited on the couch for Alfred, face buried in a pillow, and one arm hanging off the side of the couch. He would've had a smoke, but that would've reminded him of Francis more, so he didn't.

"Arthur? You right?" There he was. Voice apprehensive, he stepped towards Arthur and crouched in front of him.

"Yeah.." No. Not really. He was angry at himself and worried about what Francis might do, and how he connected to Matthew, who connected to Alfred. Who was probably his only friend in the world now.

"Are you sure?" Alfred puffed. "You just seem sad, that's all."

"Uh-huh. Dinner's going to be early." He got up, and wandered into the kitchen to get things going.

He scowled as he peeled and chopped potatoes, he grimaced as he filleted the fish, he seethed as he crumbed and fried it. Alfred nervously watched him from the doorway, trying to make sure that he didn't set anything on fire too soon. This meal didn't turn out to be a disaster, at least. Arthur took two plates and served the fish and chips, giving one to Alfred.

"Here. Eat up."

The two moved to the dining room, and Arthur took out the bottle of vinegar he had bought. Alfred felt faint as he watched the Briton practically drench his fish in the stuff. Even more so when he asked if Alfred would like some too. They ate, and Alfred was relieved that he didn't die from his companion's cooking. It was a little bland, but it was edible, and with enough salt and tomato sauce, it didn't taste half bad. Alfred stayed courteous and thanked his cook, who smiled a little and went off to clean up the kitchen. Perhaps Arthur wasn't always so bad, Alfred thought.

That evening, the pair just watched the movie Arthur had purchased until late, curling up on the couch once more. So that they didn't end up kicking each other in the face, they retired to the bedroom once the movie was over. They didn't even chatter much before sleeping.

Arthur awoke on the fourth day feeling rested, and sat up to stretch. There was a lack of noise and annoyance, so he wondered where Alfred was. Thinking of Alfred made him think of Matthew, who in turn, made him think of Francis. He shuddered. Not a nice thought in the morning. He climbed down out of the top bunk, and peeked into the cubby. Nope, no Alfred.

Next, he moved into the living room, spotting a little note on the table.

'_Gone to work. You looked too cute, so I didn't wake you up. (No homo.) I'll be back at six. Sorry to leave you –Al_'

Arthur raised a brow at Alfred's use of the word 'cute'. Surely that's not how he looked once asleep. He glanced about for a wall clock, finding that it was already four in the afternoon. Had he really slept in until four? That was certainly a luxury he missed. Yawning, he headed out to the kitchen to scrounge up some kind of breakfast.

He made poptarts, since they were the mass of what was in Alfred's pantry. After eating, he went back to the bedroom. The ladder seemed to mock him. Did Arthur have the strength, energy, or willpower to climb it? No, he decided. Deciding it would do for now, he shifted the blanket hanging over the bottom bunk, and clambered in.

"Arthur?" called Alfred, stepping through the front door at ten past six. "I'm back." He put his bag down, and wandered about the flat to try and locate his friend. A plate sat next to his note, with two cold poptarts sitting on it. The note had been flipped over, and something had been scrawled on the back.

'_I made extra. –Arthur. P.S. I'm going back to bed._'

Putting one of the poptarts into his mouth, he ambled towards the bedroom. He didn't even think to check bottom bunk, instead climbing up the ladder. An empty bed?..

"Your footsteps are loud," a voice groaned, and Alfred jumped down, looking around the room.

"Arthur? Where are you?" He asked, mouth still full of poptart.

"Bottom bunk." He answered, sticking a hand out from behind the blanket.

"What're you doing there?" Alfred asked, taking Arthur's hand in his own out of habit more than anything else.

"Well, I was sleeping before you came back." Arthur said quietly, peeking his head out next. Alfred made a lame attempt to help Arthur out, and the Briton ended up crawling out, then stumbling on his sleepy feet. Alfred caught him as he almost tripped.

"Hey, be careful." He puffed, just watching as Arthur lazily brushed the hair out of his pretty green eyes.

"Eh." Arthur yawned. Alfred stood him back up, and he wiped his eyes.

Alfred was again wearing something hipster; black shirt, white jeans, rainbow suspenders and converse. It was a nice kind of contrast, and it honestly gave him the impression of being bubbly. Kind of sweet, thought Arthur.

"It would've taken too much energy to climb up so high." Arthur stated after a moment of silence. "And I was tired. I still am. And it's too cold this afternoon." Alfred sighed, and pet the Briton's shoulder.

"C'mon, I bought pizza for dinner."

He managed to pull Arthur into the living room, and they managed to wolf down the two pizzas in mere minutes. Arthur was a furious eater when he was ravenous, it seemed. After that, Alfred suggested watching the movie Arthur had bought, and he agreed with a smile.

"Come on, this'll be cool. And it'll be warmer than the couch." Alfred said with a grin, _Spirited Away_ in one hand, and Arthur's sleeve in the other. He tugged his companion back toward the bedroom, and ducked into the cubby with him. As Arthur lay down, he watched with curiosity as Alfred pulled a laptop out from the side of the bed. "See, it's like a little movie cavern. Super cool, right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and buried into the puffy blankets with Alfred. "Yeah, yeah, super cool."

Together, they watched the movie, Alfred making loud remarks about how tasty the food looked, or how spooky a spirit looked. He hid under the covers when _No-face_ appeared, claiming it was 'one creepy fucker' whenever it showed up. Arthur would just pat the top of his head and tell him to stop being a baby. By the end, Alfred was full-on weeping, and Arthur was wiping at the tears that he refused to admit were there. After the credits, Alfred shut his laptop and shoved it away, just letting out a sigh.

"Truth or dare, Arthur." He mumbled, rolling over so that he was laying on his side, and facing the Briton.

"Really? What are you, a thirteen year old girl?" Arthur scoffed. It was a little odd to be so close to Alfred, but he wasn't going to protest. It was warm here.

"We're playing this, no matter what." Alfred shrugged. Looks like there was no getting out of it, then.

"Truth." He wasn't dumb enough to pick dare, especially since he was playing with Alfred here.

"How do you feel right now? And I don't mean hot or cold, I mean like your feelings and stuff." Alfred asked softly, eyes boring into Arthur's. He looked away.

"I don't know.. What kind of question is that?!" He puffed, creasing his brow. "I feel upset from the movie, I guess. And I kind of ran into Francis yesterday while you were out, so that's been looming over me-"

"Francis? How'd that go?"

"You get one question per turn. Truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Alfred F. Jones.." Arthur paused here, forcing himself to look his friend in the eye. "Are you gay?" Alfred had kind of expected this.

"No," he answered quickly. "I've had tons of girlfriends. The answer's obvious, I'm straight. Why'd you even bother to ask?" Alfred scoffed, flopping over onto his back.

"Right, right. Truth."

"How'd it go with Francis?"

"Horribly." Arthur grimaced. "We joked and pushed and he ended up pinning me down. I kissed him. He slapped me. The end." He mumbled.

"You kissed him?!" Alfred stammered, incredulous. "What the hell, Arthur! You know he's with my bro!" He wasn't really sure if he was just jealous that Arthur had kissed someone, or felt bad for Francis. He decided on it being a mix of both.

"That's why he hit me. Truth or dare?"

"For god's sake, Arthur.. Uh, truth."

"Let's see.." Arthur mumbled, trailing off in thought. "Why're you a cab driver, of all things?"

"Oh!" Alfred grinned. "I love going around and seeing new places, and driving's fun. Also, I get to see a lot of new and familiar faces. Good fun, taxi work."

"Despite the grueling traffic and sometimes ungrateful customers?"

"Everything has its downfall."

"Truth."

"Dare."

"Truth!"

"Truth."

The game carried on.

"It's been like an hour," commented Alfred, yawning. "Not tired yet?"

"Nah," said Arthur, smiling although Alfred couldn't see him in the dark. "Truth."

"How're you feeling right now? Same question as the first."

"Oh, right now?" Arthur took a moment to think. "Right now, I guess you're making me feel like a teenager again." He mused. "I don't really know, to be honest. It's weird. But it's nice to feel like I don't have a care in the world at the moment."

"It is nice, isn't it? Dare!"

"You sure you want to go there? I have something really embarrassing planned for a dare," scoffed the elder of the two, smirking.

Alfred bit his lip. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it!"

"Hold my hand." Arthur prompted, lifting up his hand.

"Uh, I guess," he answered nervously, taking it with caution. "For how long?"

"I don't know.. fifty turns." Arthur nodded quickly, looking away so that his embarrassment wouldn't show.

"Fifty?!" Alfred gawked, mouth catching flies. "That's totally unfair!" He cried, ripping his hand away from Arthur's.

"You either take the dare, or you lose. I thought you said you never lose-"

"God fucking damn it-" Alfred grunted, taking Arthur's hand again. They were a little squished together, laying in a single bed, but neither of them complained.

"Truth." Arthur mumbled, gently rubbing his thumb against Alfred's hand. He noticed now that the tips of Alfred's fingers were calloused, perhaps from playing guitar? Other than that, his hands were soft, and Arthur appreciated that as he squeezed them in his own.

"Uhm, biggest fear?" Alfred tried. He was doing his best not to faint or something. Damn it, Arthur.

"Dying alone." Arthur sighed, frowning. "Having someone by my side right up until the end is ideal."

"That was deep. I'm afraid of Sharknado and ghosts." Alfred laughed quietly. Maybe Arthur wouldn't notice if he squeezed back. And he really wasn't keeping track of how many turns passed.

"Dare." Alfred said cautiously. "No ones like hand holding again."

"I dare you to hug me, because I'm cold and you're warm." Arthur stated bluntly. Letting out a groan, Alfred shifted his position so that Arthur could rest his head on his arm. One the Briton had moved into place, he rolled onto his side, and curled his free arm around Arthur. This was more than a little embarrassing.

He waited for Arthur to say 'truth', but the answer never came, but in its place sounded soft snoring. Alfred was unable to move, and didn't have the heart to wake the adorable little man in his arms, so he just closed his eyes as well and tried to rest. He was exploding from the inside out that there, in his arms, was the perfect Arthur. He told himself to stay calm, and to not mess this up. He'd only had a crush on Arthur since, I don't know, the first time they met.

Weakly, he shifted the hair on Arthur's forehead, and placed an anxious kiss there, before closing his eyes and trying to sleep as well. Arthur didn't know, he was asleep. He wouldn't know, and he wouldn't need to know. Alfred allowed himself that one moment of fulfilling silly little wishes, wishes he knew would stay just figments of his imagination, never to become reality. He didn't see Arthur's lips twitch into a little smile.

* * *

**started sour but ended sweet! hehe**

**the next chapter holds.. huh, i don't know. guess you'll have to wait and find out!**


	4. Sandy Feet and A Wish Come True

Alfred woke first on day five. He blinked his eyes open slowly, giving a faint smile as he saw what he was facing. Oh, Arthur.. Wait a moment, Arthur?! He jolted back in surprise, accidentally waking the Briton in his arms.

"Calm down." Arthur instructed, not opening his eyes. "I'm too tired to deal with your nonsense and violent movements." Gulping, Alfred nodded, and tried to shuffle back. He was starting to remember truth or dare last night, but was still shocked and confused. Arthur's head was a weight on his arm, and he couldn't move it at all. "There, you did your dare." Arthur sighed, rolling over and giving Alfred his space.

"Good morning," Alfred sighed, rubbing his head. "Man, last night was weird."

"So weird."

"How about we never talk about it again?"

"Deal."

They shuffled out from the cubby, and Arthur headed to the kitchen to make himself some tea. As Alfred felt the morning air, something incredible dawned on him.

"IT'S WARM!" He shouted, throwing his hands up. "It's not really cold today! It's warm!"

"Thank whatever's above us," retorted Arthur from the kitchen.

"So we're going to the beach!"

"The beach..?" echoed Arthur to himself, cringing. Alfred danced out to the kitchen, smile sunny and as warm as the morning itself.

"The beach! It's Saturday, so I'll drive you there, no work!" He grinned, twirling where he stood.

"You're an excitable idiot," chided Arthur. He was trying not to fret about the whole beach thing.

He was still trying to quell his nerves as he rode in Alfred's car, wearing borrowed board shorts and a plain black shirt. He didn't want to protest; that would be showing fear. Ugh, he was so angry with himself at this point. Alfred pulled up at the beach's carpark, and Arthur hesitantly got out, taking the towel his companion had offered earlier, and draping it over one shoulder.

"Yeahhehea!" Alfred cackled, pumping his fist in the air and staring up at the sky through tinted sunglasses. "I fuckin' love the beach!" And that was why Arthur couldn't tell him.

"Yeah, the beach is pretty cool." Arthur nodded meekly, following slowly as Alfred made a mad dash for the sand.

He jumped down, feet squeaking against the shore's sand. Grinning like a fool, he dumped his bag and towel, and sprinted towards the lapping waves. Arthur watched him with scornful eyes, laying out his own towel, and sitting on it. Grumbling to himself, he applied sunscreen, knowing that if he didn't, he would burn to a crisp in minutes.

"Come on, Arthur, stop lazing about and come swim with me!" Alfred called. Arthur felt ill.

"I don't want to!" He snarled to the man splashing about in the waves like a child.

"Please?" Alfred called. He put his puppy-dog eyes to use. Hesitantly, Arthur took off his shirt.

Grumbling and cursing, Arthur stood and fretfully marched towards the water. He stood still far from Alfred, taking a little step back every time the waves tried to touch at his toes.

"You look totally hot," Alfred hollered with a grin, clearly taking a moment to admire Arthur's chest and torso. "Now come on!" His smile was sugary and bright. Damn it. At the 'hot' remark, Arthur's face reddened, but his blush vanished when he thought about what he was trying to do again.

Alfred was standing out knee-deep in the water, waving at Arthur to come and join him. Slowly, Arthur took a step. The sand sinking beneath his feet; that was an unpleasant feeling. A wave surged towards him, and his breath hitched in his throat. It did nothing but paw at his heel, and he tried to calm himself. He could do this. He would only have to go knee-deep. It wasn't that bad.

One more step, and then another two. Slowly, he carried on forward, hands clenched into tight fists. Alfred was giving him a puzzled look as to why he was taking so long. After what seemed like forever, Arthur stood fearfully beside Alfred.

"Geez, what's up? You seem so stiff and stuff today!" He mused, prodding Arthur's bare chest.

"Nothing's up, thank you," Arthur sneered, feeling a new pang of dread with each rolling wave.

"Well, if that's the case.." Alfred grinned, leaning down and splashing up a bout of water.

"Fuck off-" Arthur cried as the water hit him, jolting backward in surprise. Aggressively, he kicked some water back at the American. Their water tussle seemed to go on for a little while, although it was only minutes before it happened. Arthur had gone to kick water at Alfred again. The wave had come at a bad time. And knocked him right over.

He tried to scream or yell, but water filled his mouth, and the salt burned his eyes, so he screwed them shut and blindly tried to feel around for something to hold on to. His hands only found sand, and that seeped from his fingers in a matter of seconds. What was Alfred doing? Arthur felt air around his mouth once again and gasped hungrily for it. Water was still in his mouth, though, so he ended up coughing. He hadn't even noticed that Alfred had helped him out of the sea water, and was holding him in his arms.

"Arthur, are you alright?.. What was that?.." He asked quickly, patting Arthur's back to try and aid him. Arthur made a low groaning sound, and clung tighter to Alfred, perhaps out of fear.

"I can't fucking swim! And I'm terrified of the ocean," he whimpered, hiding his face out of shame. He was thankful to have fresh air around him once again, even though the horrifying waves still bit at his knees.

Alfred's eyes widened and he looked down to Arthur in alarm. "Why didn't you say something?" He asked with concern. "Arthur, I mean, if you'd said something about it, we wouldn't even have to be here-"

"I didn't want to disappoint you." He stated quietly, resting his cheek against Alfred's chest. "You seemed so excited."

"Oh.. So it's my fault.." Alfred mumbled. Letting out a tiny sigh, he parted his hands from Arthur's back only to scoop him up into his arms properly; he was carrying him bridal-style. Arthur just sighed as his friend carried him back to shore.

"It's not your fault." Arthur said quietly as Alfred put him down on the towel. "It's mine for not saying anything. Go enjoy the beach." He pointed lamely to the waves, although he couldn't even put on a smile right now.

"Nuh-uh," Alfred said quickly, reaching forward and booping Arthur's nose. "Let's build a sandcastle, since you can't swim."

Surprised by the suggestion, Arthur nodded, and shuffled off the towel. Together, they clumped loads of sand together, dug little tunnels, and even made a moat. They truly felt like ten-year-olds, but they didn't seem to care.

"Let's call it castle _Totally Fucking Awesome Because Arthur Helped Build It_." Alfred said with a smile as bright as the sun above.

"Fine, as stupid of a name as that is."

As the two were coated in sand now, they were incredibly itchy.

"I'm gonna go sit in the waves for a bit, if that's okay with you?" Alfred asked apprehensively, leaning down and ruffling Arthur's wet hair.

"Be safe." Arthur ordered, before swatting his friend's hand away and sticking out his tongue.

Alfred went and played about in the waves for a while, before trudging, soaked, back up the beach. He practically collapsed in the sand beside Arthur, yawning as he rolled onto his back.

"You're like a little child." Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes at Alfred's behavior.

They filed into the car not too long after, using towels to keep themselves from wetting the seats. Alfred had put his scruffy bomber jacket over his bare shoulders. What a loser. Their conversation became awkward too quickly.

"You looking for a new boyfriend?" Alfred asked out of the blue, eyes glued to the road. Arthur was surprised at the question to say the least.

"Hmph. I don't know." He replied flatly, staring out the window. He grew suspicious quickly.

"What about me?" His voice was clearly nervous, and the words were shaky.

"You?.." Arthur mumbled. "I'm only here for two more days, what would the point of that be?.."

"Er, why does that matter?.. It'd be cool for the rest of today and those two days right? A-and then we could keep in touch over Skype and stuff." Alfred said casually, waving a hand in meek dismissal.

"I have two issues with that."

"What would they be?" Alfred mumbled. He was now drumming his fingers atop the steering wheel as they waited at a traffic light.

"If you want us to date, you have to swear to never say 'no homo' again, because you're really damned gay." Arthur muttered, lifting his sandy knees up to his chest on the seat. "Secondly, you should know that I'm not okay with long-distance relationships."

Alfred's heart fell. Right. How could he have forgotten? "Right, forget it then. It was hypothetical anyway." He mumbled.

"The answer is yes, but only for the duration of my stay in America." Arthur answered almost under his breath. Alfred turned to face him with wide eyes.

"Dude!" He chirped excitedly, smiling wider than ever. "I've um, had a crush on you since high school." He admitted, reluctantly turning back to face the road.

"What on earth- why?" Arthur mumbled quickly, hiding his face so that his embarrassment wouldn't show. "And you didn't think to tell me at all?"

"You had Francis!" Alfred protested in a squeak.

"I-.. I would've left him in an instant for someone like you, had you not your countless girlfriends." he grumbled. Alfred stared forward with red cheeks and an embarrassed pout for the rest of the drive home.

"So.. What do we do?" Alfred asked casually as the two of them entered the apartment.

"It's not like everything's suddenly different, idiot," he mumbled. "I'm going to go and have a shower. You do whatever." He sighed, shoving his beach towel to Alfred and storming through the flat.

"You're cute," whined Alfred as he watched Arthur go. It was kind of a relief not to have to hide behind 'no homo' so much. And it certainly made his heart soar that Arthur accepted his offer. He was sure that he could convince the Briton about a long-distance relationship before these two days were over. Although, if he thought about it, he only really had the rest of today and tomorrow, as the final day's morning was when Arthur was due to leave.

He idled about for the next ten or so minutes, smiling when Arthur returned. He had arranged a pizza delivery for dinner, and Arthur agreed without protest. As a condition of Alfred paying for his food, the man insisted that he was to cuddle with him while they ate and watched TV. He said this was so because they had limited time. Fair enough, thought Arthur.

Arthur pouted and shuffled across the couch a little, before snuggling up against Alfred, and resting his head on the American's chest. Smiling and trying not to burst with happiness, Alfred ruffled Arthur's hair with one hand, and stuffed pizza into his face with the other.

They fell asleep beside one another on the couch, too weary from going out to even make it to the bunk beds. They awoke in a fashion not as orderly.

Day six started with Arthur kicking Alfred in the face again. Alfred didn't flip him off the couch this time, however. He instead tried to be cute and kissed Arthur's foot, but made a face and quickly shoved it away because simply; it tasted like foot. Not very wise. He spat and wiped his mouth, recoiling up against the side of the couch.

"Did you just kiss my foot?" scoffed Arthur, opening his eyes and looking at the American with a smug smile.

"No," Alfred said quickly, pouting.

"You did." Arthur concluded, pulling his knees to his chest and sitting up.

They had a breakfast courtesy of Alfred, and ate still at the couch. One finished, Arthur took their plates to the kitchen, and sat down, not ready for the strange conversation to come.

"Can we kiss?" Alfred asked bluntly, staring at Arthur with bright blue eyes and a tiny smile. "I mean, I'd love to take it slow with you and make everything all sweet and romantic, but we really don't have the time." He chirped, shrugging.

"If we must," scoffed Arthur, sitting down nervously on the couch.

Alfred took Arthur's shoulders in hand, and leant in. Arthur closed his eyes and readied himself. But the kiss didn't come. After that moment of nothing, the Brit opened one eye with caution. Alfred was just hovering there, grinning, and staring right at him. He jumped back in shock. "What the bloody hell-" he cried, bringing up his knee from where he sat and trying to punt Alfred with it. "Are you going to or not?!" Arthur exclaimed indignantly, shaking his fist at the man.

Alfred just laughed quietly, and practically smashed his lips up against Arthur's. It was brash and aggressive, but Arthur felt faint at his touch. Not the bad kind of faint, either. It was awkward and a little impetuous, teeth met and Arthur was pushed down against the couch by Alfred's hands. Alfred pulled back after a moment, tilting his head as if to apologize. His contrite gesture was negated by the grin he wore on his chapped lips. After a moment of hesitation, Arthur grabbed the man's face, and kissed him with a fiery passion.

Kisses turned to French ones, and mouths became locked and tangled in one another. It came to the point where, without thinking, Alfred's hands had began to lightly tug at Arthur's shirt. Again, without thought, Arthur helped him. It was when those calloused fingers slid down to his hip that Arthur stopped him. Pulling out of the kiss and pouting, Arthur grabbed Alfred's wrist before he could make a start on his trousers.

"No, Alfred," he murmured, a little out of breath. "It's too much. We only started this yesterday."

"Time is of the essence," Alfred protested lamely, although by Arthur's facial expression, knew that he was not going to get his way.

"All of this is strange," Arthur sighed, picking up his shirt from where it had been discarded. He slipped it back on, and rubbed his arms as if scrubbing them of something. "I'm sorry, but I just.."

"I get it," sighed Alfred, shuffling off of the Briton and hugging his knees to his chest. "And honestly, I had no idea where I was going with that. I don't know how to do it with a dude."

"Subtle." commented Arthur. "Alfred, I really don't think this is going to work, not right now."

"What?.. Why not?" Alfred mumbled. Surely he hadn't messed up on their first proper day of being in a relationship?

"I'm seeing you as Francis, and it's haunting me." Arthur admitted, before going silent and putting the shirt back on.

Hesitantly, Alfred put an arm around Arthur's shoulders, and let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry." He glanced down.

"The reason you never saw my arms and neck, Alfred?" Arthur started softly. "Covered in things that Francis left me; hickeys, bitemarks, burns. He acted like he owned me."

"Oh." Alfred looked up to the ceiling now, lost in thought. If he was to even have a chance, he needed to differ from the Frenchman. "I'll take my time with you, 'cos I wanna make you feel loved."

"It was foolish of me to agree to this," muttered the Briton, more to himself than his companion. "Especially if I'm just to let you down at the end."

"It doesn't have to be the end, not tomorrow-" Alfred interjected quickly. "Tomorrow we're gonna say bye at the airport, but I'm still gonna love you, and we're still gonna keep in contact over Skype."

"It feels.. I don't know.." Arthur murmured, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's odd because you 'love me' yet I hold lesser feelings for you."

"You talk like you're fifty, Arthur," Alfred laughed weakly.

Arthur frowned and leant against Alfred a little. "Please, let's not discuss this now. It's my last proper day here, and I wish not to ruin it."

The rest of the day was spent talking over various things, sharing short and capricious kisses, and embracing one another to confess secrets in the other's ear. Their playful exchanges settled down to a droll humming, words becoming actions, and actions becoming affections.

"I can't believe you're gonna be going back tomorrow," whispered Alfred from inside the cubby of his bed. Arthur was in there as well, albeit snuggled up under the blankets to block out the cold.

"I can. And I'm eager to sleep back in my own bed." retorted Arthur, eyes closed as he rested against the pillow. Alfred wiggled about so that he was laying down and facing the Brit, a little frown on his lips.

"What, you don't like my company?" he mumbled, taking his glasses off and putting them out on the nightstand.

"Your company is tolerable," quipped Arthur. "Your bed is quite uncomfortable, however."

"You're fussy," Alfred whined as he curled his thick arms around the Briton. "It's comfier when you cuddle with someone." Arthur blinked his eyes open in the dark, and rested his cheek against Alfred's chest. Hesitantly, he hooked one arm over the man's torso.

"How many women have shared this bed with you?" he asked quietly, as if apprehensive of the answer.

"Uh," stumbled Alfred. "Weird question all of a sudden but.. Uh, Anya was the eleventh."

"You sure do get around," scoffed Arthur. "Do you even really like women, or has it been a cover this whole time?"

"Matthew keeps telling me that if I like both, I'm bi, but I keep telling him no ho-"

"No what?"

"Sorry."

They chuckled and once their laughter was subdued, just smiled against one another. Without any more to say or do, Alfred pecked his boyfriend's head, and let sleep engulf the both of them.

* * *

**aww how cute! hehe the next chapter is the last one, sorry this chap took so long to write! writer's block sucks ewe**


	5. Today, I Wear My Heart on His Sleeve

The final day. Alfred wished he did not have to, but he shook the Briton at his side awake. Arthur looked up, and sighed against Alfred's chest. It was early, much too early in Arthur's opinion, for anyone in their right mind to be rousing. Seven in the morning, was it? He pouted and crawled out of bed after Alfred had done so. As much as he would protest it, he didn't want to leave.

Arthur dressed in what he had been when he had arrived here, his peacoat and slacks. He found himself still chilly, but refused to wear another coat on top of this one. That would be silly. Alfred offered him a backpack to take with him, also so that Arthur could put his things in it.

They ate breakfast. When I say 'ate', I mean sat about with no will to down the toast on their plates. After finally realising that neither of them were going to eat, Arthur collected their plates and took them to the kitchen. He gave one last inspection to the flat, before taking Alfred's hand, and leading him out and down the stairs.

The car drive was too short, with Alfred taking his work car and parking it in the toll-park area. They got out and walked slowly up to the airport. Alfred felt like he was going to cry. Arthur gripped onto Alfred's hand as they sat in the waiting area, anxiously listening for the flight announcement. They still had, perhaps, five minutes.

"What's going to happen about _us_?" asked Alfred, voice quiet compared to his usual cacophonous tone. He was clearly nervous and upset. Arthur was taken aback by his behavior, although he had been expecting it.

"I.. Er, I guess this is the end of our relationship." He answered quietly, parting his hand from Alfred's.

In the smallest of movements, a faint shrug, a bob of his head, Arthur could see how Alfred felt. Upset was to say the least. He looked like.. Hm, he looked like a puppy deprived of treats, its mother, and it had been kicked in the side as a parting gift.

"I see.." he mumbled, trying to put on a smile for Arthur. "It's fine, I get it."

"Honestly, it's not you, and if I had more time here.. I just, I don't know if long-distance relationships will ever work out in my favour." Alfred kept quiet about how it'd only gone wrong once for Arthur.

"You sure you can't try again? I'm not Francis, y'know." The American tried, scratching the back of his neck and trying his damned hardest not to start bawling.

"You certainly have just as many lovers." Arthur's words were clean-cut, and if Alfred had to guess, bitter.

"I could never cheat on you, Arthur. Not ever." He said quickly, biting his lip. "Nor have I ever cheated on anyone. And I really don't plan to."

"I.. Alfred, I should probably go." Arthur sighed, getting to his feet and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Good luck with life, my friend." Then, he turned, and left.

Alfred just rested his face in his hands once the Briton had scurried off. He wasn't crying, he told himself. He wasn't. After a minute of pitiful not-weeping, he stood, wiped his soggy eyes, and turned. Oh, there was the announcement for Arthur's flight. Great.

He was barged into from behind, and arms came crashing around him. He froze at first, but looked down and recognized those pale and thin hands. "Arthur-" he stammered, but the man embracing him let go, and he turned around. He didn't have a chance to speak again, because his lips were stolen by the Briton's in a passionate kiss, and his cheeks held tight in those slender fingers.

"What the-" he mumbled as they parted, having kissed back just as strongly.

"I love you, Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur said quickly, eyes screwed shut as he embraced the man again. "Now I have to go, or I'll miss my flight!" he uttered with haste. "You've got my Skype, keep in touch, boyfriend!" Now, he ran off for good.

"I love you too!" Alfred wailed, voice still croaky from crying.

The flight home had been tedious. Arthur kept getting embarrassed when he thought to Alfred, and hiding his face in the back of the seat in front of him. Damn that man. Damn his own impulses. Damn his heart.

His apartment was dusted with cobwebs; that was the first thing that Arthur noted. He went about switching lights on and then flopped down onto his bed, exhausted from the flight and travel. It was early morning, and Arthur tried to recall what he'd learned about time zones and whatnot from school. Nothing. He remembered nothing.

After a few minutes of rest, Arthur located his laptop from beneath his bed, and opened it. He opened Skype with its little pop, and noted that he did indeed have a new contact waiting for him. '_HamburgersEagle_' seemed to be what Alfred had called himself. He really was an idiot. On the other hand, Arthur did hold the handle of '_SlytherinKing_', so he couldn't exactly argue.

He accepted the request in seconds, smiling down at the screen.

_SlytherinKing: There. I've accepted your contact request._

_hamburgerseagle:gee u even type like an old man_

_SlytherinKing: You type like you're five._

_Hamburgerseagle: just video call me ok arthur ;p_

Arthur cringed at the American's lack of grammar and proper spelling. It was like he had been raised in a barn. Reluctantly, he patted down his hair, checked his face in the reflection on his screen, and pressed call. He tossed on his headset as well, knowing how loud Alfred could be; he didn't wish to have the silly man wake his neighbors.

After only a few seconds, Alfred answered, and the image of him sitting with a dorky grin appeared. "Dude," he chuckled, to which Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'll have you know that I only recently got off my flight, so I'm very tired." Arthur chided, turning up the volume a little so that he could hear Alfred's voice more clearly.

"Aww, then you'll fall asleep and look like an angel," teased Alfred. "Anyway, before you doze off mid-sentence, I've got a present for you!"

"How could you possibly give me a present now?" Arthur groaned, frustrated by Alfred's stupidity. "Unless you plan on mailing it over."

"No, I already gave it to you, duh. Check the bottom of the bag I gave you." Alfred chuckled, winking and giving a thumbs-up to his webcam.

Arthur nodded and moved away from the laptop for a minute, retrieving the bag. Once he had it, he returned to his bed, and opened it. He took out his things and put them aside, and froze when his hand felt something odd. He tugged it out, and just stared at the object in disbelief.

"My jacket!" Alfred hummed, through his webcam to Arthur.

"Why on earth would you give me such a thing?" asked Arthur, looking at it quite scrupulously.

"So I can keep you warm, duh," Alfred chuckled, and shrugged. He was just as annoying and cheerful through a screen as he was in the flesh, Arthur noted. "Well, not me, my jacket, but it's like me? If you get that?"

Arthur found himself quite humbled by the gesture, and buried his face in it so that Alfred wouldn't see his pink cheeks. "You didn't pack well for the cold, so I doubted you had anything good to keep you warm back home."

"Oh.. God, shut up." Arthur stammered. "It stinks of America."

"Glad you like it, Mister Slytherin." Alfred mocked. "Now put it on."

"Put it-.. Oh, for god's sake," Arthur mumbled, unfolding the bomber jacket and wearily slipping it over his shoulders. His hands went through the too-long sleeves, and he buried his cheeks in the fluffy collar. "There, are you happy?"

"You're so cute," sighed Alfred, touching his camera as if he was touching Arthur. "I'm really happy."

"Honestly," sighed Arthur, tugging the garment tighter around his shoulders. "You're a foolish cab driver with a shitty apartment and a bunk bed. You're off your head."

"You're a stuffy British man with a bad sense of direction and an inability to tolerate a little cold weather." Alfred retorted, smirking. "But I love you from the bottom of my heart." With that, he moved his arms to make a large heart shape.

Smirking, Arthur emulated the shape with just his thumbs and index fingers.

"Stay stupid, Jones. I love you."

* * *

**happy ending! hehe ,thanks for reading this, all of you! do you, readers, want an omake? i have an idea i didn't get to use, and it was either that or the beach, and i chose the beach. leave a review and tell me if you want it, i'll add it as an extra chapter if people do want this. btw, it may or may not have something to do with batman and robin. thanks for reading!**


	6. Omake

**OMAKE**

* * *

Alfred woke first on day five. He blinked his eyes open slowly, giving a faint smile as he saw what he was facing. Oh, Arthur.. Wait a moment, Arthur?! He jolted back in surprise, accidentally waking the Briton in his arms.

"Calm down." Arthur instructed, not opening his eyes. "I'm too tired to deal with your nonsense and violent movements." Gulping, Alfred nodded, and tried to shuffle back. He was starting to remember truth or dare last night, but was still shocked and confused. Arthur's head was a weight on his arm, and he couldn't move it at all. "There, you did your dare." Arthur sighed, rolling over and giving Alfred his space.

"Good morning," Alfred sighed, rubbing his head. "Man, last night was weird."

"So weird."

"How about we never talk about it again?"

"Deal."

They shuffled out from the cubby, and Arthur headed to the kitchen to make himself some tea. After checking his Facebook notifications, something dawned on Alfred.

"Hella!" he hollered throughout the flat.

"What the _hell_ are you on about? Hella isn't even a word." Arthur called back, voice flat as he returned to the bedroom, cuppa in hand.

"I've got an idea today," explained Alfred, grinning brightly and practically jumping out of bed. "This is great! I've got you a costume, so you don't need to worry."

"Wait a minute, costume?" the Briton mumbled dryly, narrowing his eyes.

"Costume!" Alfred echoed, digging about and pulling out his Batman outfit. "This one's mine. Remember how I left when you were asleep the other day? Well, I was at the mall (don't ask why), and I totally found a costume for you."

"Should I be worried?" Arthur murmured over his mug.

"Nah, it's totally cool. Lemme go get it!" he chirped, bounding out of the bedroom and past Arthur. He returned a minute later with a folded costume, which Arthur feared would end up causing him a migraine. Alfred unfolded it to show, and Arthur almost jumped.

"Robin!" Alfred beamed, trying to force the costume toward Arthur. "I'm Batman, so you're my sidekick."

"Oh, for Christ's sake.." Arthur murmured, taking the cosplay and just staring at it. "Please tell me you're joking-" he looked up, and saw Alfred staring at him with puppy-dog eyes. Damn him.

"I'll make breakfast, you go try it on," Alfred cooed, giving Arthur a nudge before going into his cubby to get his laptop. "I didn't know your size, so I just guessed."

"I don't even have a choice, do I?"

"Nope!"

Arthur put his teacup down and hesitantly moved to the bathroom, where he changed into the costume. It was too small. Moreover, way too much of his legs were showing. Short-shorts were not something he wanted to wear, ever. Meekly, he poked his head out of the bathroom door, and Alfred caught his eye instantly.

"Come on out," he enticed, smiling and being the usual ray of sunshine. Shyly, Arthur toddled out from behind the door, and used the cape to hide behind. This was more than embarrassing. Mortifying? Humiliating? That's a little closer to the mark. Perhaps degrading.

"Ohhhh my god," whispered Alfred, bouncing to his feet and rushing to Arthur. "C'mon, move the cape, I wanna see,"

"What are you now, a pervert?" squeaked Arthur, taking a step back.

"What? No!"

"Then you don't get to see."

Alfred raised a brow. "So if I was a pervert, I would get to see?"

"No, that's not what I meant! Shut up!"

Alfred laughed softly, and put a hand to his hip. "C'mon, boy wonder." Slowly, and very hesitantly, Arthur moved the cape. The little shorts of the outfit pinched at his upper thighs, and he felt incredibly embarrassed.

"There, now I'm going to change back," Arthur muttered, moving the cape back in front of him and practically diving back into the bathroom.

Alfred was left standing there, gawking over what he'd just seen. Oohhhhh goodness. "I was gonna say we go and do fun stuff at the mall as Batman and Robin," he called, covering his flushed cheeks with his hands.

"No way in hell is that happening, Alfred!" cursed Arthur, who was hurriedly changing back into more comfortable clothes.

"Shot down by Robin, ouchie."

* * *

**there we go thers the lame omake since some people asked for it! im so sorry ahah**

**its basically what was originally in the plan for the beach chapter, but i cut it out because it was a bit.. i dont know, it just didnt seem to fit.**


End file.
